If people knew how inadequate and inept I am they would be shocked! It's really just the grace of God and "faking" that gets me through. It's like my new Ultimate Christmas Fake Book that has all the Christmas Carols I want to play. It gives me the words, melody line and all the chords. I just sit down at my piano and I can play just about anything in there. I'll choose a Christmas Song like, Merry Christmas, Darling (My all time secular favorite). It goes like this: "Cm, Dm, Gm, Cm,"" I'm doing great! "F7, Bb, Gm, F#+" WHAT?!!! What is an F#+? Oh well, skip that one, and on we go! Every once in a while I'll hit one of those schmaltzy chords right and I sound like I really know what I'm doing, when in actuality it was a total accident.
At times, that's how I tend to live my life. I accidentally read something about a great author and I can chat like I have a literature degree! I stumble on a recipe and the finished product looks like it was prepared by a pro, and I glow with the compliments I receive, when it was really very easy and foolproof. I have learned enough Scripture over the years to hold my own in a debate on predestination and post or pre-tribulation, but don't ask me what I Scripture I read this week, the answer may be embarrassing for me.
Jesus told the woman at the well (who was a pretty good faker herself!), "But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the Father seeks to be His worshipers. God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth." John 4:23-24 NAS
No matter how you fake it, God is searching for those whose worship is sincere. May He find my heart ever true.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thanksgiving Weekend
Friday, November 27, 2009
The fuss is over and the quiet begins. My favorite part of Thanksgiving weekend! The fireplace is burning, the snow is falling and I’m sitting in my pjs and slippers listening to the quiet. This is that slot of time that is the eye of the storm. Thanksgiving is done and Christmas season can wait until tomorrow. Nothing is pressing; no one is in desperate need of me. I can sit on my couch and just be.
Part of my tradition of the Friday after Thanksgiving is reading a book from cover to cover. I try to select one that is going to put me into the Christmas spirit and yet has a little depth to it. It doesn’t have to be a major work or on the best seller list, just a book to help me enjoy the peace. I selected the book Christmas List by Richard Paul Evans. He is one of my favorite authors. He has a way of telling a story without being wordy. His books tend to have a spiritual moral to them and a sweet romance although usually tragic, that appeals to my romantic leanings. My selection was perfect for this morning’s retreat.
I can feel the calm of the day slipping away as Tom becomes restless in the stillness. He is outside shoveling the walk and I have a feeling in the next few minutes the snow blower will fire up. This cushion of quiet I have been reveling is even now beginning to disperse. Rosie is home and she and her friend Michelle are watching a movie and the phone is beginning to ring. I can feel the pull of the laundry waiting for me, the call of worship music waiting to be organized and the whining of the dog for a walk in the new fallen snow. However, I believe I can squeeze out another twenty minutes or so from the fire in the fireplace and a moment to write my thoughts and vent my feelings before I need to budge from my couch.
I was telling my sister Carol, yesterday that it really does happen! The kids grow up and take most of their stuff with them. All of a sudden getting ready for company isn’t so panic ridden and the house seems less cluttered. She looked at me with doubt in her eyes and I placed a comforting arm around her shoulders while she leaned on me for a moment. It seems like in the last two weeks or so, this phenomenon has finally occurred at our house. The couch stays free of purses, coats, sweatshirts and Old Navy shopping bags, dishes stay in the cupboard and the washer and dryer are empty when I go to put a load of my laundry in them. The weddings were over months ago, but moving the necessary stuff from one abode to another is process. I am sure I will miss all the stuff that used to haunt the common areas of our residence, but for now I am enjoying the overlying neatness.
In less than a month I will be having yet another birthday. I just read a book by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter Anne called Traveling With Pomegranates. She talked about turning fifty and facing the fact that her physical fertility had come to an end and she faced the realization that her life needed to take on a new type of fertility. As I read I identified with that feeling. She put so well into words what I have been feeling for the last year. Although I didn’t always agree with her methods of coming to grips with the loss of her “young woman hood” and the accepting of “older woman hood” I felt an affinity with her in this. I too stand at the place of leaving my productive years behind and entering the years that I hope creativity can become born in me. I’m praying it will be more than knitting sweaters, making new recipes and finding new ways to take advantage of the silver in my hair. Not that I will stop doing those things, I just long for more than that.
Someone who was a successful composer of worship music once said, “If you want to be creative, get close to the Creator.” That will be my goal for the next year (and every year to come). I am going to ask Him to be creative through me. What will that mean for me? I’m not sure. I hesitate to put into writing what I hope of doing before I am an old woman, I am just superstitious enough to not want to jinx my dreams. But I do know whatever I put my hand to, with the Creator’s blessing, will be enough.
The fire has died, the book is read and it’s time to begin those little tasks that will let neatness continue to reign. My Thanksgiving weekend has been full of blessings.
The fuss is over and the quiet begins. My favorite part of Thanksgiving weekend! The fireplace is burning, the snow is falling and I’m sitting in my pjs and slippers listening to the quiet. This is that slot of time that is the eye of the storm. Thanksgiving is done and Christmas season can wait until tomorrow. Nothing is pressing; no one is in desperate need of me. I can sit on my couch and just be.
Part of my tradition of the Friday after Thanksgiving is reading a book from cover to cover. I try to select one that is going to put me into the Christmas spirit and yet has a little depth to it. It doesn’t have to be a major work or on the best seller list, just a book to help me enjoy the peace. I selected the book Christmas List by Richard Paul Evans. He is one of my favorite authors. He has a way of telling a story without being wordy. His books tend to have a spiritual moral to them and a sweet romance although usually tragic, that appeals to my romantic leanings. My selection was perfect for this morning’s retreat.
I can feel the calm of the day slipping away as Tom becomes restless in the stillness. He is outside shoveling the walk and I have a feeling in the next few minutes the snow blower will fire up. This cushion of quiet I have been reveling is even now beginning to disperse. Rosie is home and she and her friend Michelle are watching a movie and the phone is beginning to ring. I can feel the pull of the laundry waiting for me, the call of worship music waiting to be organized and the whining of the dog for a walk in the new fallen snow. However, I believe I can squeeze out another twenty minutes or so from the fire in the fireplace and a moment to write my thoughts and vent my feelings before I need to budge from my couch.
I was telling my sister Carol, yesterday that it really does happen! The kids grow up and take most of their stuff with them. All of a sudden getting ready for company isn’t so panic ridden and the house seems less cluttered. She looked at me with doubt in her eyes and I placed a comforting arm around her shoulders while she leaned on me for a moment. It seems like in the last two weeks or so, this phenomenon has finally occurred at our house. The couch stays free of purses, coats, sweatshirts and Old Navy shopping bags, dishes stay in the cupboard and the washer and dryer are empty when I go to put a load of my laundry in them. The weddings were over months ago, but moving the necessary stuff from one abode to another is process. I am sure I will miss all the stuff that used to haunt the common areas of our residence, but for now I am enjoying the overlying neatness.
In less than a month I will be having yet another birthday. I just read a book by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter Anne called Traveling With Pomegranates. She talked about turning fifty and facing the fact that her physical fertility had come to an end and she faced the realization that her life needed to take on a new type of fertility. As I read I identified with that feeling. She put so well into words what I have been feeling for the last year. Although I didn’t always agree with her methods of coming to grips with the loss of her “young woman hood” and the accepting of “older woman hood” I felt an affinity with her in this. I too stand at the place of leaving my productive years behind and entering the years that I hope creativity can become born in me. I’m praying it will be more than knitting sweaters, making new recipes and finding new ways to take advantage of the silver in my hair. Not that I will stop doing those things, I just long for more than that.
Someone who was a successful composer of worship music once said, “If you want to be creative, get close to the Creator.” That will be my goal for the next year (and every year to come). I am going to ask Him to be creative through me. What will that mean for me? I’m not sure. I hesitate to put into writing what I hope of doing before I am an old woman, I am just superstitious enough to not want to jinx my dreams. But I do know whatever I put my hand to, with the Creator’s blessing, will be enough.
The fire has died, the book is read and it’s time to begin those little tasks that will let neatness continue to reign. My Thanksgiving weekend has been full of blessings.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Grandma Day
Julian came over yesterday as it was Thursday, Grandma Day! We played in the leaves under our birch trees. Of course Julian doesn’t have any sense of the value of gold, but I always think of gold coins when I see the birch leaves scattered over lawns, and streets. They hang in the autumn sunlight in the nearly bare trees and catch the golden tones of slanted warmth and suddenly the world seems very rich. Before long Jonae arrived and I sat in the sun while her and Julian tossed those “gold coins” into the breeze and caught them in their hair. It was indeed a rich moment, a priceless memory.
I was telling my friend Judy, I never feel like I have to rush when I’m with Julian. I can walk slowly, watch two Sesame Street shows in a row, and linger over milk and cookies and feel absolutely no guilt at all! We did get an awkward look from the man shelving videos when we played “sneak up” on uncle TJ at the Library, but the guy needed loosening up a little! We stopped at the platform set up on the library lawn to do an impromptu clog dance (by the way, Danskos sound great on plywood). It was Uncle TJ’s turn to shoot awkward glances at us, but on such a glorious autumn day, SOMEONE SHOULD BE DANCING! Therefore, we danced! Time well spent.
I know grandmas should have a modicum of dignity and grace about them, mine did, but I just haven’t figured that part out yet. For now I think I’ll just enjoy the moments and hopefully the dignity and grace will come with the gray hair. It is these undignified moments that make me feel rich, bought with the “golden coins” falling from the birch trees in our yard.
I was telling my friend Judy, I never feel like I have to rush when I’m with Julian. I can walk slowly, watch two Sesame Street shows in a row, and linger over milk and cookies and feel absolutely no guilt at all! We did get an awkward look from the man shelving videos when we played “sneak up” on uncle TJ at the Library, but the guy needed loosening up a little! We stopped at the platform set up on the library lawn to do an impromptu clog dance (by the way, Danskos sound great on plywood). It was Uncle TJ’s turn to shoot awkward glances at us, but on such a glorious autumn day, SOMEONE SHOULD BE DANCING! Therefore, we danced! Time well spent.
I know grandmas should have a modicum of dignity and grace about them, mine did, but I just haven’t figured that part out yet. For now I think I’ll just enjoy the moments and hopefully the dignity and grace will come with the gray hair. It is these undignified moments that make me feel rich, bought with the “golden coins” falling from the birch trees in our yard.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
My Father's Daughter
While going through my mountain of books, I found a journal entry written on the flyleaf of a Bible study I was doing. I didn't date it for some reason, but I know it was several years ago. At any rate this is what I wrote:
Some days I come to my Father as an innocent, carefree child; hugging, laughing, singing--resting.
Some days I am the disgruntled toddler who is tired and wants her own way, even though I know its not what is best and I am not going to get anyway.
Some days I am the child who adores, believes and trusts anything the Father has to say. I will do anything He asks and it is enough reward to just be close to Him.
Some days I'm the adolescent daughter who is so wrapped up in friends and things, I only have time to give my Father a quick hug and smile. I tell Him where I am off to, not waiting for His approval because I fear He may not approve and will spoil my fun.
Some days I'm the young woman standing on the edge of a dream, praying the Father will give His blessing; knowing I'll be crushed if He doesn't, but willing to risk the dream because I know He is all wise.
Some days I'm the grown-up daughter who takes time to share in the deeper knowledge of Him; to learn and understand the voice I recognize as wonderful.
Some days I am an elder daughter who just wants to rest in His presence from the cares and duties of the day.
Which ever daughter I am today, I know the Father is always the same. I am always welcome. He loves me as He finds me, and if I am willing, He changes me.
It's funny, I don't even remember jotting these words down, but they still strike a note of truth in my heart after all these years. I am my Father's daughter!
Some days I come to my Father as an innocent, carefree child; hugging, laughing, singing--resting.
Some days I am the disgruntled toddler who is tired and wants her own way, even though I know its not what is best and I am not going to get anyway.
Some days I am the child who adores, believes and trusts anything the Father has to say. I will do anything He asks and it is enough reward to just be close to Him.
Some days I'm the adolescent daughter who is so wrapped up in friends and things, I only have time to give my Father a quick hug and smile. I tell Him where I am off to, not waiting for His approval because I fear He may not approve and will spoil my fun.
Some days I'm the young woman standing on the edge of a dream, praying the Father will give His blessing; knowing I'll be crushed if He doesn't, but willing to risk the dream because I know He is all wise.
Some days I'm the grown-up daughter who takes time to share in the deeper knowledge of Him; to learn and understand the voice I recognize as wonderful.
Some days I am an elder daughter who just wants to rest in His presence from the cares and duties of the day.
Which ever daughter I am today, I know the Father is always the same. I am always welcome. He loves me as He finds me, and if I am willing, He changes me.
It's funny, I don't even remember jotting these words down, but they still strike a note of truth in my heart after all these years. I am my Father's daughter!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Kristen My Joy
A rainy Sunday afternoon is to be savored like an expensive bottle of wine--not that I've ever had an expensive bottle of wine, but I can imagine. that is why I am sitting here at my computer instead of snoozing in my oh-so-comfy-bed. My mind is still littered with wedding images reminiscent of the way wedding "leftovers" litter my whole house. Maybe if I write them out I will be able to move on and quit succumbing to the weepiness that threatens to overcome me whenever I think about Kristen's and Josh's beautiful moment.
The preparations were totally exhausting for everyone and we were all alternately short tempered and loving. We just never knew what to expect from the other person or ourselves. And as I sat on the front row, on the left, I found myself totally in denial as I watched my two beautiful daughters, Jolene and Rosie walk down the aisle looking like Greek goddesses along with Tori and Malinda. And then at the back door, standing with her father, was my lovely Kristen. I had told Masha, after going to several dress fittings, Kristen looked even more beautiful in her gown than Audrey Hepburn ever looked and it proved to be even more true at that moment. I can't remember if she even glanced my way--I think not--she only had eyes for the young man who had captured her heart months ago, and I kept telling myself, "This is it, this is it, the moment we've all been working toward," and I suddenly felt a great sadness. I leaned toward Tom and whispered, "This makes my heart hurt," because I actually felt a physical sort of tearing taking place in my chest. He looked at me with a look that made me know he hadn't understood what I had said, and I couldn't say it again without sobbing, so I let it go. And somehow I knew he was dealing with a ripping in his own soul.
Joy and pain are often so closely related that we cannot separate them. It is like the bone and marrow talked about in Scripture which can only be divided by a Divine sword. They mingle and separate alternately leaving us exhausted and wondering which way is up. A birth of a child is a messy pain-filled joy, the mournful relief of the home going of an elderly parent puts us in a tail spin, and the marriage of a beloved daughter brings gladness as well as sorrow to our hearts. But we know we would never change a moment. The joy will slowly overtake the sorrow and I will bring my basket-case emotions back to center and life will begin a new normal for all of us...until the next lovely bride stands at the back door (Jolene), and the roller coaster ride begins again!
The preparations were totally exhausting for everyone and we were all alternately short tempered and loving. We just never knew what to expect from the other person or ourselves. And as I sat on the front row, on the left, I found myself totally in denial as I watched my two beautiful daughters, Jolene and Rosie walk down the aisle looking like Greek goddesses along with Tori and Malinda. And then at the back door, standing with her father, was my lovely Kristen. I had told Masha, after going to several dress fittings, Kristen looked even more beautiful in her gown than Audrey Hepburn ever looked and it proved to be even more true at that moment. I can't remember if she even glanced my way--I think not--she only had eyes for the young man who had captured her heart months ago, and I kept telling myself, "This is it, this is it, the moment we've all been working toward," and I suddenly felt a great sadness. I leaned toward Tom and whispered, "This makes my heart hurt," because I actually felt a physical sort of tearing taking place in my chest. He looked at me with a look that made me know he hadn't understood what I had said, and I couldn't say it again without sobbing, so I let it go. And somehow I knew he was dealing with a ripping in his own soul.
Joy and pain are often so closely related that we cannot separate them. It is like the bone and marrow talked about in Scripture which can only be divided by a Divine sword. They mingle and separate alternately leaving us exhausted and wondering which way is up. A birth of a child is a messy pain-filled joy, the mournful relief of the home going of an elderly parent puts us in a tail spin, and the marriage of a beloved daughter brings gladness as well as sorrow to our hearts. But we know we would never change a moment. The joy will slowly overtake the sorrow and I will bring my basket-case emotions back to center and life will begin a new normal for all of us...until the next lovely bride stands at the back door (Jolene), and the roller coaster ride begins again!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Prima Donna
Yesterday I opted for some "free time." I played a couple of games on my computer (Scrabble is addicting and I don't think I'm getting any better at it), spent some time arguing with TJ, and the dog and the cats. I ignored the dishes, the laundry and even the book I'm currently reading. Today, that "free time" is costing me! I feel pressured to hurry and get stuff done before I can spend time with my little sweetie, Julian. ARGH! I hate it when I do that! Even knowing I have limited time to get all YESTERDAY's stuff done, here I sit, tip-tip-tapping away at my computer. What is it that drives me to laziness?
As I sat and contemplated this in my pajamas this morning, I came to the conclusion that it's my mother's fault. She never explained to me that when she called me a "Prima Donna" she was being sarcastic...I believed her! Thanks Mom!
We began a new Ladies Bible Study last night at church. The topic was my choosing, "The Intentional Woman." Thank goodness my friends Barbara and Marian are teaching. They are VERY together women. Not of the "Prima Donna" ilk at all! During the overview of the study I was so convicted I raced home and did a load of laundry! Carrumba! It's going to be a long summer.
The following is a verse we talked about last night:
With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ." 2 Thessalonians 1:11 & 12 (NAS)
It's a good thing we are not saved by our works, I'd be in BAD shape. But our acts (laundry) prompted by our faith (God will give me strength to stay on task) will bring glory to Jesus, and I will reap the glorious results as well. Among them will be guilt free time with my little J. as well as a moment or two to be a "Prima Donna!"
As I sat and contemplated this in my pajamas this morning, I came to the conclusion that it's my mother's fault. She never explained to me that when she called me a "Prima Donna" she was being sarcastic...I believed her! Thanks Mom!
We began a new Ladies Bible Study last night at church. The topic was my choosing, "The Intentional Woman." Thank goodness my friends Barbara and Marian are teaching. They are VERY together women. Not of the "Prima Donna" ilk at all! During the overview of the study I was so convicted I raced home and did a load of laundry! Carrumba! It's going to be a long summer.
The following is a verse we talked about last night:
With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ." 2 Thessalonians 1:11 & 12 (NAS)
It's a good thing we are not saved by our works, I'd be in BAD shape. But our acts (laundry) prompted by our faith (God will give me strength to stay on task) will bring glory to Jesus, and I will reap the glorious results as well. Among them will be guilt free time with my little J. as well as a moment or two to be a "Prima Donna!"
Friday, May 22, 2009
Memorial Day Weekend
Memorial weekend is always a nice break. I usually plant my flowerbeds and spend some time remembering. After all, isn't that what Memorial Day is all about? I'll probably make a trip to the cemetery with my sisters and leave flowers for mom and dad. We always leave one for Joo Bong Lee since no one leaves him flowers. That tradition was actually started by my brother David, who has since died. I try to make sure that my friend Harriet, also has flowers on her grave. It's too sad for someone who gave so much to others to not have flowers once in awhile.
Tom and TJ are out working in the yard right now. The skies are clouding up and they are trying to beat the rain. They are working well together, which isn't always the case with fathers and sons, and I am thankful. This is the result of TJ becoming more manly in both body and attitude. As we were driving the other day he shared a revelation with me. "Mom," he said, I have just realized that I have grown stronger than dad. I'm no longer the little boy and he, the super hero. Now I will become his hero." By hero, I understood TJ to mean the holder and fulfiller of his father's hopes and dreams. Of course tears immediately rushed to my eyes and a huge lump came to my throat. What we as parents leave undone, or unfinished quite often falls to our children. If we have been faithful and God has blessed us, the burden they pick up for us will be godly and at times joyous. I pray this is so for my strong son.
The culmination of Memorial weekend will be a barbecue with my family. I wish my extended family were closer so we could break a hot dog bun together, but I will think of them and maybe even give them a call so we can remember together.
HAPPY MEMORIAL WEEKEND!
Tom and TJ are out working in the yard right now. The skies are clouding up and they are trying to beat the rain. They are working well together, which isn't always the case with fathers and sons, and I am thankful. This is the result of TJ becoming more manly in both body and attitude. As we were driving the other day he shared a revelation with me. "Mom," he said, I have just realized that I have grown stronger than dad. I'm no longer the little boy and he, the super hero. Now I will become his hero." By hero, I understood TJ to mean the holder and fulfiller of his father's hopes and dreams. Of course tears immediately rushed to my eyes and a huge lump came to my throat. What we as parents leave undone, or unfinished quite often falls to our children. If we have been faithful and God has blessed us, the burden they pick up for us will be godly and at times joyous. I pray this is so for my strong son.
The culmination of Memorial weekend will be a barbecue with my family. I wish my extended family were closer so we could break a hot dog bun together, but I will think of them and maybe even give them a call so we can remember together.
HAPPY MEMORIAL WEEKEND!
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Day After Easter
There is a perfect way to boil Easter eggs. No joke! I learned it from Martha Stewart. You put them in a pan, cover them with cold water, bring them to a boil, turn the heat off, cover it with a lid and let them rest for 11 minutes. Viola! Perfectly boiled Easter eggs! Of course you have to take the time to dye them and decorate them. I used to dread that part of Easter when my kids were little. The messy dye, the fragile eggs, the clean up afterwards. This year I did it alone. No mess, no broken eggs, no fun! Now I can’t even get the kids to eat them. What happened?
This is the first year since we’ve had children that I didn’t do Easter baskets. I did one communal basket and put unopened bags of candy in it. That was it. I bought one little Beanie Baby for my grandson and called it good. It didn’t help that Wal-Mart was in the middle of expanding and I walked around for twenty minutes without finding a single thing to buy. Fred Meyer wasn’t much better. They are redoing their floors and nothing is where it belongs! I can get that at home! I didn’t even buy a new dress, hat, shoes or even gloves. Where is the Easter Spirit?
Well, it could be in my perfectly cooked ham (Martha didn’t teach me that, it’s been trial and error), the sunshiny mandarin orange and pineapple fruit salad or the lovely tulips Jolene brought home. But somehow I think it would all just be empty celebrating of spring without being able to respond, “Indeed, He is risen,” to my sister’s cheery greeting of, “He is Risen!” Somehow between December 25th and April 12th, the “Sweet Little Jesus, Boy” became the “Lamb that was slain” and then the “Risen Messiah.” It’s like the old song says about love and marriage, you can’t have one without the other. The babe in the stable would have been just another poor baby if he hadn’t become a sacrificial Lamb, the slain Lamb would have become just another sad story without the resurrection. Somehow this realization puts perfectly boiled eggs and baskets filled with candy and bunnies back into perspective.
So, on this snowy Monday, I will clean the snow off my car, head out to work and rejoice knowing, “He is Risen!”
This is the first year since we’ve had children that I didn’t do Easter baskets. I did one communal basket and put unopened bags of candy in it. That was it. I bought one little Beanie Baby for my grandson and called it good. It didn’t help that Wal-Mart was in the middle of expanding and I walked around for twenty minutes without finding a single thing to buy. Fred Meyer wasn’t much better. They are redoing their floors and nothing is where it belongs! I can get that at home! I didn’t even buy a new dress, hat, shoes or even gloves. Where is the Easter Spirit?
Well, it could be in my perfectly cooked ham (Martha didn’t teach me that, it’s been trial and error), the sunshiny mandarin orange and pineapple fruit salad or the lovely tulips Jolene brought home. But somehow I think it would all just be empty celebrating of spring without being able to respond, “Indeed, He is risen,” to my sister’s cheery greeting of, “He is Risen!” Somehow between December 25th and April 12th, the “Sweet Little Jesus, Boy” became the “Lamb that was slain” and then the “Risen Messiah.” It’s like the old song says about love and marriage, you can’t have one without the other. The babe in the stable would have been just another poor baby if he hadn’t become a sacrificial Lamb, the slain Lamb would have become just another sad story without the resurrection. Somehow this realization puts perfectly boiled eggs and baskets filled with candy and bunnies back into perspective.
So, on this snowy Monday, I will clean the snow off my car, head out to work and rejoice knowing, “He is Risen!”
Thursday, April 2, 2009
A Day At Home
The coffee pot was empty again! Three times this morning I went to get a cup of fresh coffee and it was just dregs! My children are becoming what Kristen put so eloquently, coffeepot heads. But now they are all gone to work and school and the only one left is Rosie and she doesn’t drink coffee. So I will enjoy my bubbling, gurgling, steaming cup of fresh brewed coffee ALL BY MYSELF!
I have tulips on my table. They are so lovely! It’s amazing how the rest of the house can be a total clutter catastrophe and a little beauty will capture my attention and make me less frustrated. They speak of warmer days to come and lend me a little natural color to off set the bleak white and gray of snow and ash.
I’m home today and it’s a good day to be home. The wind is blowing and the sky is cloudy and looking like more snow. It’s too cold for an April Shower so holing up with a book is a blessing. On days when I can stay in my house for a full day without even checking the mail I am at my best! I exercised, ate raisin bran cereal, and now I’m sitting in my mismatched grubbies emptying my brain onto a paper that doesn’t really exist. I’m looking forward to an afternoon with Julian and the evening being relaxed. Yes, Thursdays are usually my favorite.
I’m always glad when the month of March is over. It’s usually the cruel month with the come-hither sunshine that lures you into sweaters and jackets, then zaps you with cold breezes and unexpected rain or snow, and this year, ash. But as the snow begins to fall outside my window, I realize that April doesn’t know that it’s her turn to shine. Of course it’s only day two of the month, but we’ve been waiting a long time! Wake up, April!
I have tulips on my table. They are so lovely! It’s amazing how the rest of the house can be a total clutter catastrophe and a little beauty will capture my attention and make me less frustrated. They speak of warmer days to come and lend me a little natural color to off set the bleak white and gray of snow and ash.
I’m home today and it’s a good day to be home. The wind is blowing and the sky is cloudy and looking like more snow. It’s too cold for an April Shower so holing up with a book is a blessing. On days when I can stay in my house for a full day without even checking the mail I am at my best! I exercised, ate raisin bran cereal, and now I’m sitting in my mismatched grubbies emptying my brain onto a paper that doesn’t really exist. I’m looking forward to an afternoon with Julian and the evening being relaxed. Yes, Thursdays are usually my favorite.
I’m always glad when the month of March is over. It’s usually the cruel month with the come-hither sunshine that lures you into sweaters and jackets, then zaps you with cold breezes and unexpected rain or snow, and this year, ash. But as the snow begins to fall outside my window, I realize that April doesn’t know that it’s her turn to shine. Of course it’s only day two of the month, but we’ve been waiting a long time! Wake up, April!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
On Purpose!
I was doing a Bible study not too long ago and the question was asked: "As a child, what were your feelings when you were in the presence of your sisters? Brothers?" Well, ignored was the answer for the sisters, but for the brothers portion my immediate response was PAIN! It seemed it was my brothers’ sole intent to torture me. There was the Indian rope burn and Chinese water torture, elbow jabbing, wet willies, knuckle haircuts and a myriad of other such imaginative teasing. Of course my one defense was tattling. And I must admit I was very good at it. It went something like this:
Me: Mom, Bobby pulled my hair and Kenny laughed at me!
Bobby: Did not! She’s just a baby! Besides, it was an accident!
Me: Huh uh! He did it on PURPOSE!
There was an art in convincing the judge, my mother, that the personal assault on my hair was a first-degree offence. If it were so deemed a first-degree offense, on purpose, then my brother’s would be sentenced to their rooms for an hour or possibly sent to sweep the driveway. And I, smug in my victory, would receive my mother’s solid whap on my backside as I made an ugly face at their retreating backs!
At that tender age, I doubt I had a true understanding of the term "on purpose," or with intent.
Intent or intention: An aim that guides action; an objective; simply signifies a course of action that one proposes to follow: what one plans to do or achieve; implies deliberateness: idea of resolution or determination: an idealistic or long-term purpose; often implies that the end or goal can be reached.
The new buzz word it seems is "intentional." I'm seeing it in Bible studies, self-help books, radio broadcasts and TV talk shows. I wonder if Someone is trying to tell me something. I do have that way of living everyday life with the shotgun method. This method usually consists of trying to make a small dent in everything that crosses my path. Needless to say, it is a very inefficient way of living! So, for the next few weeks, I'm going to try to be more intentsional about the way I do housework, diet, work, and most of all, live for Christ. This may consist of lists (haven't decided yet), a daily planner, keeping my cell phone charged and my Through the Bible in a Year Bible handy.
I'd love to hear how all of you (all 3 of my readers) do things intentionally. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from each other...on purpose!
Me: Mom, Bobby pulled my hair and Kenny laughed at me!
Bobby: Did not! She’s just a baby! Besides, it was an accident!
Me: Huh uh! He did it on PURPOSE!
There was an art in convincing the judge, my mother, that the personal assault on my hair was a first-degree offence. If it were so deemed a first-degree offense, on purpose, then my brother’s would be sentenced to their rooms for an hour or possibly sent to sweep the driveway. And I, smug in my victory, would receive my mother’s solid whap on my backside as I made an ugly face at their retreating backs!
At that tender age, I doubt I had a true understanding of the term "on purpose," or with intent.
Intent or intention: An aim that guides action; an objective; simply signifies a course of action that one proposes to follow: what one plans to do or achieve; implies deliberateness: idea of resolution or determination: an idealistic or long-term purpose; often implies that the end or goal can be reached.
The new buzz word it seems is "intentional." I'm seeing it in Bible studies, self-help books, radio broadcasts and TV talk shows. I wonder if Someone is trying to tell me something. I do have that way of living everyday life with the shotgun method. This method usually consists of trying to make a small dent in everything that crosses my path. Needless to say, it is a very inefficient way of living! So, for the next few weeks, I'm going to try to be more intentsional about the way I do housework, diet, work, and most of all, live for Christ. This may consist of lists (haven't decided yet), a daily planner, keeping my cell phone charged and my Through the Bible in a Year Bible handy.
I'd love to hear how all of you (all 3 of my readers) do things intentionally. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from each other...on purpose!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Cruisin'!
We are back to zero temps here in Alaska. Ordinarily I would complain and hole up under my electric blanket for the day, but I have a reason to get out of bed today! My suitcase is packed, my spending money is in my pocket and I'm heading for a warmer climate! Yes, Tom and I are going to be cruisin' for the next ten days. Sea, sand and sunshine are on the agenda and I'm voting "YES!"
Tom, unbeknownst to me, has been saving and planning a Mexican cruise for a couple of years now. I can see the signs now that I look back. My jealous rages when a friend got to go to Hawaii caused him to snicker behind his newspaper, my complaints about gaining at weight instead of losing causing him to grimace when he thought I wasn't looking. Yes, all the signs were there, I just never thought I would see the day. But at last, it has arrived!
We are keeping a close eye on Mount Redoubt today. If she decides to blow her top and the wind is blowing in the right direction, our cruisin' plans could be put on hold. We have been holding prayer vigils that she would calm down and let us get to Seattle before the excitement begins. After that...let her blow! I've been here during one volcanic ash event and that was enough to last me a lifetime. There is not a paper mask to be found anywhere (except Tom's garage has a stash), computers are sporting garbage bags and people are stocking up on groceries just in case. Life in Alaska is always a little on edge. My youngest son asked me why we live here when Alaska is daily trying to kill us? Well, in spite of the cold, the ice, and volcanic eruptions, or maybe because of them, Alaska is an exciting place to live!
Tom, unbeknownst to me, has been saving and planning a Mexican cruise for a couple of years now. I can see the signs now that I look back. My jealous rages when a friend got to go to Hawaii caused him to snicker behind his newspaper, my complaints about gaining at weight instead of losing causing him to grimace when he thought I wasn't looking. Yes, all the signs were there, I just never thought I would see the day. But at last, it has arrived!
We are keeping a close eye on Mount Redoubt today. If she decides to blow her top and the wind is blowing in the right direction, our cruisin' plans could be put on hold. We have been holding prayer vigils that she would calm down and let us get to Seattle before the excitement begins. After that...let her blow! I've been here during one volcanic ash event and that was enough to last me a lifetime. There is not a paper mask to be found anywhere (except Tom's garage has a stash), computers are sporting garbage bags and people are stocking up on groceries just in case. Life in Alaska is always a little on edge. My youngest son asked me why we live here when Alaska is daily trying to kill us? Well, in spite of the cold, the ice, and volcanic eruptions, or maybe because of them, Alaska is an exciting place to live!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
New Year News
The new year has started with a very cold bang! It seems since Christmas we have had sub zero temperatures almost constantly! We have doubled our hot coffee and tea consumption, carb loaded without meaning to, turned up our electric blankets and waited out the high pressure system that has been trying to hold us captive.
Finally the last two days have been a sultry 10 to 20 F. It feels like a heat wave! I guess cold can be relative. For those who live in the southern states our fairly freezing Fahrenheit temps would seem very cold indeed!
Speaking of warm southerly places, Tom and I will be leaving on a cruise to Mexico in a couple of weeks. I have dreamed, longed and gave up hope of such a wonderful excursion! I am constantly distracted by thoughts of sandy beaches, moonlit ship decks, and sunshine in my hair! I can hardly wait to get on that red eye flight and I doubt that I'll sleep a wink en route.
It has been my New Years tradition to set goals for myself and not resolutions. I cannot keep them no matter how hard I try! My goals for this year? Hmmm.... I haven't really thought about them much yet and it's already, what? The 12th? 13th? Spiritual: to improve my prayer life and read my Bible through again. I also would like to be more creative in my ministry opportunities and endeavors. Physical: Simply to be healthier December 31st than I was on January 1st. That means less potato chips and more exercise! Personal: to not waste so much time doing the nothings that steal my time. The Nothings would be TV shows that are not time worthy, books that are not worth my reading time, arguments that lead no where, etc. If someone out there in Blog Land would keep me accountable, that would be great!
Happy New Year to All!
Finally the last two days have been a sultry 10 to 20 F. It feels like a heat wave! I guess cold can be relative. For those who live in the southern states our fairly freezing Fahrenheit temps would seem very cold indeed!
Speaking of warm southerly places, Tom and I will be leaving on a cruise to Mexico in a couple of weeks. I have dreamed, longed and gave up hope of such a wonderful excursion! I am constantly distracted by thoughts of sandy beaches, moonlit ship decks, and sunshine in my hair! I can hardly wait to get on that red eye flight and I doubt that I'll sleep a wink en route.
It has been my New Years tradition to set goals for myself and not resolutions. I cannot keep them no matter how hard I try! My goals for this year? Hmmm.... I haven't really thought about them much yet and it's already, what? The 12th? 13th? Spiritual: to improve my prayer life and read my Bible through again. I also would like to be more creative in my ministry opportunities and endeavors. Physical: Simply to be healthier December 31st than I was on January 1st. That means less potato chips and more exercise! Personal: to not waste so much time doing the nothings that steal my time. The Nothings would be TV shows that are not time worthy, books that are not worth my reading time, arguments that lead no where, etc. If someone out there in Blog Land would keep me accountable, that would be great!
Happy New Year to All!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)